The Day He Disappeared
by Ukyou
Summary: Syaoran is gone, a victim of a clow card he remains. His daughter years later is then lulled into believing that he is not dead and sets out for him. She is right.


**The Violin**

by Ukyou

She sat alone in a room. Upon her open hand, a violin hung delicately, just barely tracing upon the tips of her fingers. There was man at a desk at the far end of the room, whom sat upon a worker's salute of a chair, and casually licked upon the tip of his lip. His hair, messy, and his cigar rising upon the light air as if it were tracing itself, creating wisps that would travel from left to right and back again. He regarded her, and opened his drawer to take out a small stick, thin and plastic.

He coughed, the room giving out an echo. She kept still, contained within a flowing white dress that hid her away from the world. He grunted, and tapped upon his desk incessantly with his small stick. She lifted her violin upon contact, her bow letting out a small whisper as it traced gently upon the violin's strings.

She began to play.

It was as delicate as a feather, almost as if a slight trickle would render it to ashes. Her music danced around the room, and spun about the corners. She had her eyes shut, as if she had been entranced by her own doing. She was cut off from the world.

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**Introduction**

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He knocked on the door and then kept pause. Indeed he was grotesque and large, he wore his belt hanging upon the straps, he was far too large to keep it fastened. The snow was falling upon the ground, lights were strung about in elaborate displays, and he feared he would freeze to death, even if covered in a thick jacket. He took his cigar back in between his fingers and hastily knocked again, footsteps to be heard from the inside. Finally, as if he were welcomed to the gates of heaven, the doors opened before him, and the woman that greeted him took his coat and hat, quicky reminding him not to bring his fine smoke into her home.

'A foolish thing is a cigar! It kills me, yet I smoke it. It kills me, and yet I enjoy it. How ironic my life is!' he laughed, throwing the cigar out the door before he closed it. It was now in the hands of the snow to extinguish it.

'Please, come to the den. You must be freezing.' the woman said back to him, patting his back as he quickened his pace to the room. It was comfortable in that room, namely because of a fire that had been conjured only minutes before. It crackled out of metronome, and he stood before it, bearing his hands.

'I'm afraid that we are going to suffer from a blizzard, although I doubt it would be a time of rejoice for your daughter. What the girl desires brings us all to our knees.' he stated, rubbing his hands together.

'Rejoice indeed she shall, John. Now, do you want a cup of coffee?' the woman asked, her face delicately traced upon by her brown hair. 

'You know the blend, I do hope. I've been teaching your daughter for several years now, and I do hope you haven't forgotten.' he joked, finally walking towards a chair.

It was a couple of minutes later when she finally brought him his coffee. As she handed him his mug, the sound of a violin went about the home. The girl was practicing.

'At fourteen, she is as beautiful as the music she expresses. I'm sure your husband would be very proud of her if he were here to see her.' the man said, taking a sip of his coffee before realizing it was scaldingly hot. He put the mug down upon a coaster on the table.

'Yes she is, a spitting image of me when I was fourteen myself.' the woman then replied, taking seat on the sofa. 'And still, so different. She rarely speaks, and almost always expresses herself with her violin, and not her words. She is a rare soul.'

'A rare soul indeed!' the man exclaimed. 'In all my years of teaching yound pupils, yours is surely the brightest. Sometimes I find myself immursed within a warm blanket of her music, which is quite rare as well.' 

The woman kept herself silent, and gave a weak smile. The man, quickly noticing her drop in spirits, decided to comfort her.

'Now, now. I've known you for a long time, Sakura. I've also known your husband for quite a long time. If there was anything he could've wished for, I'm sure it would be to not see you this way. He died for you and your daughter...is that not a way for him to die rightfully?' he asked her, whom was quickly weaking within her emotional boundaries.

'I'm...I'm sorry...' Sakura apologized. 'Just don't worry about it. Give me time to think it over still. I mean, I know its been a long time, but...it still haunts me. Sometimes, I wonder ... could he still be alive?'

'Sakura, I've told you this many times. He's gone. Leave him be. Don't let him remain with bad spirits.' he said, comming to her side.

'Okay...okay, I know John...just give me time.'

John gave a small cough and then answered, 'Sakura, I'm old. I've seen many bad things happen to many people. I've seen magicks being weaved upon a man's hands, and omens ripping others to shreds. The clow card that took Syaoran away is amongst the most painful and mysterious things I've ever seen in my entire life, and yet it is in the past. It is time we all get over these things.'

Sakura nodded, 'Well, I'm glad that Aya handled this better than I thought she could've. She's a strong girl.'

John then remarked, 'Strong indeed, for she comes from such fine a woman. Had I been only thirty years younger, I would've been head over heels for a woman such as you. Now, gather your strength and give an old man some more coffee.'

And so she did.


End file.
